


Sunflowers, Stars, And A Stupid Mouth

by kirschhhstein



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, also contains lazy writing as usual, just a heads up, physical and emotional acts of bullying are described
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2797739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirschhhstein/pseuds/kirschhhstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I actually paid for these ones this time."  Jean had laughed, and Armin had just grit his teeth and smiled because he so badly just wanted to grab that stupid boy with the stupid grin and kiss his stupid mouth.</p><p>** based on 'stargazing' prompt for jearmin week iii **</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunflowers, Stars, And A Stupid Mouth

Armin Arlert liked to think he had a lot of courage.  He stood up to his tormentors at school this week.  He had started wearing whatever made him feel comfortable and pretty despite the odd looks he received.  And he was no longer as afraid to not care about the unimportant things.

This was all thanks to a certain handsome, bruised and bleeding boy who sat next to him on an uncomfortable doorstep and told him he could be anything he wanted to be.  Armin couldn't believe those words had come out of that mouth.   _That_ mouth.   _Jean Kirschstein's mouth._ The boy even grown-ups were sometimes afraid of.  And goddammit, Armin was going to ask that boy to the prom if it killed him.

That boy wasn't a boy anymore though, and that's what Armin might admit he was most afraid of.  That cute boy was now a handsome man just shy of twenty, and Armin was still stuck in the hell that was public secondary education.

 _He kissed me first though._ The desperately in love part of his brain insisted.

 _That was nearly two years ago, and he hasn't done anything else of the sort since._ The more logical, but still deeply in love section of his brain reminded him.

But oh, that scene had replayed itself in Armin's mind over and over again since.  It's wasn't a particularly happy memory.  It was a dull day in June, and the rain was making Armin feel miserable.  So he'd dared to paint his nails in the palest pink polish he owned, tucked his hair behind his ears with a thin blue headband and pulled on matching leggings.  He felt a tiny bit better until the boys from the next town over spotted him.

It wasn't long before his hairband and the contents of his bags were spilled on the ground.  Mud stains on his kneecaps made his leggings now unwearable.  There were scratch marks on his hands from the boys' fingernails, and Armin thought he'd never feel pretty again.

 _It's always going to be like this._ He'd thought, then looked up when he heard a shout of his name.

It was that boy that came into the store sometimes.  He usually picked out books from the historical section, and sometimes asked for Armin's recommendations.   _Jean,_ Armin had recalled.   _Jean Kirschstein._ The boy his classmates were in awe of and the adults were wary of.  The boy with the two-toned hair, piercings and ink where there shouldn't be and a glare that made grown men recoil.  The boy that brought Armin a stolen flower last week because he said that Armin 'looked a bit down' that day.

Armin watched in numb surprise as the boy took on three others all on his own and bested them, though not without injury.  The others ran away, presumably to their own town, and Jean pulled a damp and shaking Armin to his feet and slowly led him over to the shaded doorstep of the nearest store.  A store with umbrellas displayed ironically in the front window.

 _"Did they hurt you?"_ Jean shook the rain from his hair and asked.   _"Show me."_

Armin hadn't bothered showing him his hands or scraped knees.  Instead he wrapped his arms around his knees, hugging them to his chest, and nodded.  He wasn't ready to speak yet.  So Jean grit his teeth and flew off in a rant about  _'Reaper scum.'_ and _'retaliation'._ Whatever that meant.

_"Armin, have they done this before?  Does anyone else bother you like this?"_

He gave another nod.   _"I hate them."_

_"Armin -"_

_"I hate this town.  And I hate everyone in it."_ His throat closed up as he tried to speak, eyes focusing on the rain splattering noisily on the pavement.   _"I hate feeling scared **all the time.** I hate that my leggings are ruined.  I hate that you come into the shop all the time and act the opposite of what everyone says you are.  I hate that I can't do anything right.  I hate... "_

Jean's steady gaze was almost tangible, like a brush of fingertips against Armin's cheeks.  When Armin turned his head with a quivering lip and tears on his face, Jean didn't flinch.

_"Why though?  Why do I feel like I'm made out to be the crazy one just because nobody else understands?  Like... Like I'm gross, o-or something like... Like I'm never going to be wanted or welcome anywhere I go.  And sometimes I think they're right!  I mean, who **would** want me?  Want me like this?  I -"_

_"I do."_

_"I - W-what?"_

_"Armin, I would want you."_

And so Armin had been fourteen when Jean Kirschstein first kissed him.  A chaste and lingering press of his mouth to Armin's - shocking the upset out of Armin's system for a brief moment, then Jean pulled away.  Taking his magical misery-removing lips with him.

 _"You're not gross, or crazy.  There are people like you everywhere who are feeling the same things you're feeling right now, and will accept and love you for exactly who you are.  There's some in this town._   _There's one on this doorstep actually.  And there are always going to be people like **those** assholeswho prey on that kind of feeling, but you can't let them stop you from trying to get past it.  And if you ever feel like giving up... find me.  I'll be a huge pain in the ass and not quit until you're feeling okay again."_

Armin watched silently as Jean rubbed the dirt from the hairband, and slid it back into place.   _"Even if it's little things like this."_

Jean had smiled as he brushed his thumb against Armin's ear, oblivious to the tingles dancing on Armin's skin for the past minute.

But Jean had been right.  He did become a huge pain in the ass.  Between visiting Armin's store even more frequently with wide smiles and the occasional stolen token, and insisting on Armin setting his mobile number as speed dial 1 on his own phone, it was difficult to get away from his new bodyguard.

Of course Armin complained and sighed and made every exasperated gesture under the sun, but not once did he ask Jean to stop.  He liked that Jean seemed to like talking to him, and brought him cupcakes and the occasional balloon from his store, and offered him rides on his Dyna (which Armin firmly declined).  What he liked best was the unfamiliar warmth spreading from his chest when Jean smiled at him, and the electricity in his veins if their hands just so happened to brush.

He'd be waiting, impatiently, for Jean to do something else.  Armin's fifteenth birthday came and went with a charade of balloons and cake at a local bar where Jean introduced Armin to his friends.  Of course they were lovely and hilarious and Armin was hopeful that these were the people Jean was talking about on that doorstep five months before.  They were, and Armin was happier than he thought he'd ever been, and Jean still hadn't kissed Armin again.  However the lingering glances became more frequent, along with Jean's insistence on accompanying Armin almost everywhere.  The accidental brushes were less frequent though.

 _Perhaps it's an age thing._ Armin wondered.   _My sixteenth should see a change._

It didn't.  On his sixteenth Armin received a book, a sunflower bouquet, a rare (albeit brief) hug and nothing else.

 _"I actually paid for these ones this time."_ Jean had laughed, and Armin had just grit his teeth and smiled because he so badly just wanted to grab that stupid boy with the stupid grin and kiss his stupid mouth.

And he would.  If Jean's constant encouragements had done anything for Armin over the year, they'd made him more determined to get what he wanted than anything.  And what he wanted was to dress up in his cutest outfit and go to prom with the boy he liked.  The boy it just so happened that his classmates were terrified of and wouldn't dare approach him for fear of what the rumours said about him (of course Armin knew the rumours were ridiculous and mostly untrue).

So, two months before prom was to take place, Armin marched to where Jean was most likely to be.  He stared up at the sign above the bar and swallowed his nerves, his hands tightening around the strap of his schoolbag, and went inside.  It was quiet, not as busy as  _Maria's Wings_ usually was at this time.  Armin was relieved when he spotted Jean's best friend behind the bar as usual, and waved when Marco smiled.

"You're cutting it a bit fine, Armin.  I have to turf out all minors at eight."

"Does that include Connie?" Armin queried as he approached the bar, nodding his head in his classmate's direction who was hopping up and down excitedly beside the pool table.

"It does."  Marco said, automatically reaching towards the mini fridge to pull out a juice carton for Armin.  "Looking for Jean?"

Armin nodded, taking the carton gratefully and pushing coins into a hesitant Marco's hand.  "Is he here?"

"Kitchen.  He'll be out in a minute."

Giving another nod, Armin sipped at the juice and wished he could taste it.  The nerves had numbed his senses somehow, as he'd also gone deaf to Connie's yelps from behind him as his heart thudded in his ears instead.  He was trying to convince himself that it was a simple question he wanted to ask, and the worst Jean could say was no (and possibly avoid Armin forever).  Which was likely.  Armin had a feeling that going to prom with a teenager was very low on the list of things Jean would be willing to do.

_I doubt he even went to his own prom.  Or if he did he was surely the one that turned up drunk and trashed the place.  I know that's Connie's plan._

"Marco, that dishwasher's fucked - get it replaced already."  Armin  _inhaled_ his orange juice, squeezing the carton in a moment of shock when Jean appeared in the kitchen doorway.  Wiping the sweat from his brow with a ragged dishtowel that he then slung over his shoulder, and dressed in a sleeveless shirt that clung tight to his torso; Armin most definitely felt that his coughing fit was justified.

"If I could afford a replacement I wouldn't be asking you to fix it."  Marco grumbled, reaching over the bar to rub Armin's back.  "You alright there, Armin?"

"Y-yes."  Armin managed weakly as Jean caught sight of him and grinned.

"Hitting the orange juice pretty hard there, were you?"  He moved away from the doorway towards the bar, replacing Marco's hand with his own.  Armin suppressed a shiver at the warmth of his palm.  "How was school?"

"Fine."

"Do you mean that?"

 _"Yes_ , I mean it."  Armin rolled his eyes, trying not to think about the fact that he'd stopped coughing but Jean's hand was still resting on the small of his back.  "School was dull.  Nobody said or did anything interesting that I didn't already know or predict.  And nothing that affected me."  Armin added hastily as Jean frowned.

"Well, if you say so."  He said, finally withdrawing his hand and taking the stool next to Armin who still stood.  He looked at Armin who stared back silently, waiting.  "And?  Aren't you going to ask how my day was?"

"How was your day?"

"Dull."

"Was that really worth telling me to ask you?"

"Absolutely."  Jean grinned.  "So, what d'you need?"

Oh god, it was the perfect opportunity.  Marco had just disappeared into the kitchen to mourn his dishwasher.  The bar was empty save for Connie and a few other guys who were too rowdy to overhear them.  And Jean seemed to be in a good mood as he plucked the juice carton from Armin's hands and smiled around a quiet slurp.  Now Armin just needed to not muck it up.

"So, my school's prom is in two months."

"Oh god, prom."  Jean closed his eyes in anguish and set down the carton.  "I need a beer just thinking about it.  Don't worry, Arm, you're not missing out on anything good."

"N-no, I... I want to go.  To prom."

Jean shot him a look of disbelief, which he quickly replaced with a doubtful side-long glance.  Well, it was going great so far.

"Armin, you... You  _want_ to go?  Are you sure?"

Armin knew why he was worried.  Nobody at school had bothered him for a long time, ever since word spread that he was close with Jean Kirschstein and his friends.  Some had even been friendly towards him recently which surprised Armin, but he appreciated all the same.  The out-in-the-open torment had whittled down to whispering and avoidance - a different type of bullying but one that spared Armin from discreetly applying make-up between classes to cover up the bruises.  He could put up with a few silently disgusted looks if that was what it took.

And he expected a lot of those if he attended prom.  Even if Jean refused his invite, it wasn't as though Armin would go alone.  There were girls he was friendly with who had encouraged him to join their prom group, and even a few boys he had made conversation with between classes.  So one way or another, Armin was going to enjoy himself at a cliché school event.

"Yes, I'm sure.  And I want to go with you."

Oh lord.  Jean's eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing in surprise.  "Uh..."  He cleared his throat, leaning back and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.  "Me?  Are you sure?"

Face burning, Armin gave a timid nod; his sudden surge of confidence vanishing in the wake of Jean's reaction.  It wasn't as though he regretted asking, it was that... well, he didn't technically  _ask._ He just blurted out his feelings as a fact like usual, forgetting how to ask a question like a normal person apparently.  And Jean was still looking confused and uncertain.

"Please don't feel obligated to say yes."  Armin said quietly, and Jean sighed.  He rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling, his hand still resting on his nape.  He gave an exasperated grunt before turning to Armin and giving him a rueful smile.

"Nah, it's not like that.  Truth be told, it's hard to say no when you make that face."

"What face?"

"Like a sad kitten."

Armin frowned, and tried to rearrange his expression into one less kitten-like.

"See, now you just look like a confused kitten."  Jean laughed, then a hand to smooth his thumb against Armin's furrowed brows.  "So.  Prom, huh?  Tell me they at least have a decent theme this year."

Armin's heart thumped wildly.  Did this mean he was saying yes?  "It's 'A Night Under the Stars'."

"Oh fucking hell."  Jean withdrew his hand, letting his head fall forward in despair towards to ground.  "Urgh... Fine.  Only for you, Armin.  I just hope I can rent a tux this late."

 

*

 

Armin didn't think any moment could best the moment he realised that Jean had accepted his invite to prom.  He was proven wrong pretty quickly when he met Jean on his doorstep two months later after hours of brushing and primping and twirling his blue skirts in his room.

"Hey, kitten."  Jean smiled, taking Armin by the waist and kissing his cheek.  He was looking annoyingly dashing in his rented tuxedo, his hair brushed back and blue hydrangea on his chest pocket.  "You look even lovelier than usual."

Ignoring the warmth in his cheeks and the urge to twirl again, Armin took to scolding him.  "Cheesy.  Did you steal those from Shadis's shop again?"

"No, I  _bought_ them of course."  Jean said in mock annoyance, then brought the hydrangea from his pocket and produced a white rose out of nowhere.  "Look, I went all out.  Hold out your wrist."

"A corsage?"  Armin blinked as Jean tied the flowers with a band to his wrist.  "You make those at the shop?"

"Well, we do now."  Jean said sheepishly, leading Armin down the path to where Marco's 1998 Ford Pickup was parked.  Armin was surprised it was still running.

"No bike today?"  He asked as he slid into the passenger seat.

"God no, you think I'd leave that thing parked at the school?  Besides -"  Jean gestured to his hair and winked.  "The wind would've fucked up my hair something terrible."

Armin giggled as Jean shut the door.  Twenty minutes later found them at Armin's school hall where the prom was held.  There were girls in pretty, and alternatively not as pretty dresses, boys in oversized or too-tight suits, and teachers looking either bored or anxious.  One of the teachers looked increasingly nervous as he spotted Jean by Armin's side, but he didn't react other than a wary glance.  This was Jean's old school after all, and he was bound to be recognised by many.

But Armin wasn't thinking about that.  He was thinking about the blue and white lights shining down on them, the band playing 'Fly Me To The Moon', and the handcrafted silver stars hanging above.

"Wow."  He breathed, and caught Jean giving him an amused glance.  "I know you think it's dumb and tacky but... I actually love this theme."

Jean only laughed and assured him that it actually wasn't as bad as he thought.  He even admitted that he was secretly a Sinatra fan.

He made no complaint as Armin floated over to a group of girls he said were his friends (they shrieked and fawned over Armin when he approached).  He even smiled and said hello, not missing their eyes on the arm he had secure around Armin's waist.  His date may be convinced there was nothing to worry about, but Jean wasn't taking any chances tonight.  Armin was looking especially stunning tonight in a pale blue 50s collar tea dress, and Jean wasn't forgetting how the people at this school used to treat him for less.  He was aware of loud whispers and not-so-subtle stares in their direction, and wouldn't be surprised if one of his old teachers approached him and threatened to ban him from the building.

But nothing happened.  No one approached them for any other reason than to compliment Armin or gossip about which teacher was hiding a vodka flask in their waistcoat.  And Armin was smiling the whole time.

Then he pulled at Jean's arm, grinning as he slowly walked backwards towards where the others were dancing.  "Come fly with me?

Jean snorted.  "Okay, Frank.  Can you even dance?"

"Look around, no one can."

Armin was right, as usual.  Jean glanced at the others surrounding them - boys shifting their feet awkwardly beside their dates, groups of girls giggling as they wriggled and twirled each other around, and Connie hand-jiving alone by the food table.  Boy, was he glad high school was over.

But it wasn't for Armin, and he had only just started to enjoy his school life.  So it was up to Jean to make this lame party the best night of Armin's high school life.  Grasping Armin by the waist and taking the opposite hand, Jean led to weave them in and out of dancers.  He took quick steps, changing direction frequently and singing loudly aloud to the song playing.   _"Baby, don't you hear my heart?  You got it drowning out the radioooo..."_

"Oh jeez, no I'm going to trip!"  Armin laughed, but was keeping up with ease and his hand on Jean's arm.  "Is this a serenade as well as a dance?"

"Damn right, kitten.  Meatloaf's my jam.  C'mon, this is the bit where you shimmy."

"I'm not shimmying!"

"Hey, hey.  You wanted this party, you have to shimmy.  Shimmy under the silver stars."

And after much persuasion, Armin did shimmy under the silver stars to Jean's great delight.  And many greatly exaggerated dances later (during which they were occasionally joined by Connie who taught them how to properly do 'jazz hands'), they found themselves swaying together dreamily to the band's vocalist's soft voice.  Far from caring about what anyone else might think, their arms wrapped tightly around each other and Armin took what he felt was a risk and rested his head where Jean's neck and shoulder joined.

It had been a long night that was eventually filled with wild dancing as the students grew fed-up with being self-conscious.  Now some of the students were beginning to leave with sleepy looks on their faces and their shoes in their hands.  Armin himself had grown tired, and was more than content to let Jean pull him gently across the dancefloor.  He had reached the point of exhaustion where he no longer gave a damn about the consequences of anything he said.

"Jean... Why did you come with me tonight?"

Jean snorted quietly, Armin's breath was ticklish on his neck.  "Because you asked me.  ...Why  _did_ you ask me?"

"Isn't it obvious by now?"  Armin said with a quiet groan.

"Well... yeah, but I'd prefer if you just confirmed it for me so it won't be awkward when I kiss you goodnight later."

"...How about you kiss me right now?"

"Because my old chemistry teacher is staring at us and I don't feel comfortable as his ex-student kissing his current student.  Especially when I'm the one that nearly set his lab on fire a few years ago."

"Then take me outside."

"Okay, pushy."  Jean smiled, and led them off the dancefloor and out of the hall.  Armin, suddenly no longer sleepy and very much alert, fought the urge to run outside with Jean in tow.  Instead he let himself be led at what seemed like a snail's pace, until they were outside underneath the real stars.

Armin leaned against the pickup truck, his hands fidgeting in front as he glanced up at his date.  "Thank you for coming with me tonight."

Jean nodded, his hands in his pockets.  Somehow he didn't seem as confident as he had been before, and the flirty atmosphere had gone.  He swallowed as he looked at down at Armin's feet, unable to meet his eyes.  Armin wasn't having it.

"Jean, please look at me when I... When I say something that's taking all my courage to say."

He did, albeit warily.

"I like you."

Jean closed his eyes as he let out a sigh.  "I know.  I like you too."

"...Why do you seem so upset about it?"

"Because it's you.  Lovely, smart, perfect you.  And you can do so much better than me."

Armin frowned, taking his weight off of the car and standing steady.  "Don't you think I should have some say?  Jean, I've never met anyone better than you.  And I want us to be together, like...  _together_ together.  Don't you?"

Jean shot him a desperate look.  "Of course.  Though I've just got this sinking feeling that you're gonna break my heart one day."

"That's a stupid reason not to date me."  Armin scowled, and Jean cracked a smile.  "What?  It  _is_ stupid.  You could say that about anyone you liked as an excuse not to date them."

"Yeah, yeah.  Okay, I hear you."  Jean took Armin's arm, sliding his hand down to adjust the corsage on his wrist then interlock their fingers.  "Are you sure you want me though?  I'm going to be obnoxious and needy."

"You're already obnoxious and needy."  Armin rolled his eyes, pulling Jean down by the back of his neck into their second ever kiss.  He was sure day had come and gone again when they finally drew apart.  Jean gave a breathless laugh, his ears a little red in the dim light of the moon and stars.

"So.  I guess prom wasn't too bad after all, eh?"

Armin smiled.  "Not bad at all."


End file.
